A Chanukah Caper
by Pendus
Summary: Jewish parody of Dickens' famous Christmas Carol.


Chapter 1

One thing is for certain, Markowitz is dead. His burial was signed by the rabbi, the clerk, and the head and sole mourner, Schwartz, his longtime partner (in business, though often suspected of being other kinds of partners.) Markowitz is as dead as yesterday's bagel.

Schwartz never even bothered to remove Markowitz's name from their successful television production network, SMC (the Schwartz and Markowitz channel.) When people would call asking for Markowitz, Schwartz would answer just the same.

Schwartz is a very private, solitary, miserable old man. No one ever bothers to stop and talk to him – even to ask him the time, for directions, and especially to ask for money. There was a rumor that Schwartz had killed his own brother when he asked him for a dollar in fifth grade (though this was of course, as Schwartz often liked to say, "Pure balderdash!" Schwartz couldn't care less, though. He liked to instill fear in people. Schwartz entered his studio, where everyone wished him a happy Chanukah, but he told them, as he did every day.

"Fuck off and just get back to woik!"

Before he entered, Schwartz felt a sneeze coming on. He had come down with a mild cold in the past week. He blew the door to his office open.

"Oy vey!" said a janitor in the room. "I just fixed this thing."

The intercom in Schwartz's desk buzzed.

"Who the fuck is it?!" Schwartz demanded.

"It's me, your loving nephew," answered the cheerful voice on the intercom.

Schwartz reluctantly buzzed his nephew in.

"Happy Chanukah, uncle! God save you!" said Schwartz's nephew.

"Bah! Humbug!"

"Chanukah a humbug? Surely you don't mean that!"

"Yes I do, nephew! 'Happy Chanukah!' How could you possibly be so happy? You're on the freakin' verge of poverty! And don't call me Shirley!"

His nephew didn't bother to correct him.

"Well if money really buys happiness than why are you so miserable if you're so rich?" asked his nephew.

"What else can I be in this woild o' dumbasses as this?! 'Happy Chanukah!' What's Chanukah time to you but bills, bills, bills!? A time for finding yourself another year older but six pence none the richer – and don't kiss me! If I had it my way, every schmuck who has the phrase "Happy Chanukah!" on his lips should be fried in his own latkes – and buried with all eight things of a menorah straight through them!"

"Uncle!"

"Nephew," said Schwartz. "You keep Chanukah in your own way and I'll keep it in mine."

"But you don't keep it at all, Uncle Ed."

"So then let me leave it the fuck alone then!" said Schwartz. "Much good may it do you. Much good it has ever done you!"

"Well I dare say, uncle, there are a great many things that I haven't necessarily profited from but I would say do me good – Chanukah among them. It's a time when people seem comfortable for once shutting up and view each others as all brothers in the human race – and thus it has done me some good and will continue to do me good – without putting a red cent in my pocket!"

At this moment a delivery man entered the room on a scooter and handed Schwartz's nephew the Nobel Prize.

"Congratulations, pal," said the delivery man. "You've just won the Nobel Prize for motivational speaking. And if I may say so, you're speech just made me cry. Sign here, please," said the delivery man, handing Schwartz's nephew a slip of paper and a pen.

The janitor in the back applauded.

"Shut up and get back to fixing the goddamn door!" said Schwartz

"So, Uncle, the reason why I came was to invite you to my humble abode for dinner tomorrow."

"I'll see you in Hell first!" said Schwartz.

"Why?" asked his nephew.

"Why did you get married?" asked Schwartz.

"Erm, because I fell in love."

"Because you fell in love. Just as I suspected. You're completely helpless. Now good day!"

"But…"

"I said good day!" said Schwartz as he pressed a button that opened a trap door that opened beneath his nephew's feet.

Schwartz heard a knock on the door. He went to answer it.

"Schwartz and Markowitz," said one man upon entering. "Might you be Mr. Schwartz or Mr. Markowitz?"

"Jacob Markowitz died seven years ago this very night," said Schwartz.

"Sorry to hear that, Mr. Schwartz. Now that this happy time of year, it is generally desirable to provide for the poor and destitute, who suffer greatly at the present time. Thousands are in need of common comforts and even basic necessities."

"Aren't there any god damned jails still in operation?" asked Schwartz.

"Well, yes, but..."

"So they'll get they're damn food, clothing, shelter, the whole nine yards there!"

"Yes, but their provisions are barely adequate and they could use some Chanukah cheer. Now how much shall I put you down for."

"Jack!" said Schwartz.

"Yes?" said the other charity collector.

"I mean nothing! Zip! Zero! Zilch! Nilk! Nada!"

"Then you wish to remain anonymous?" asked Jack.

"I wish to be left the fuck alone! I honestly don't even keep myself happy at Chanukah! I can't afford to make poor people happy! I do my part for society by paying taxes that go fuckin' jails that give these poor people what they have!"

"But many would rather die than set foot in jail," said Jack.

"So if they want to die, that's there business! Let them decrease the surplus fuckin' population of the Earth! It's not my business! It's enough for a man to understand his own business let alone someone else's! Now good day!"

"But Mr. Schwartz…" said Jack.

"I said good day!" said Schwartz as he again released his trap door.

At closing time, Schwartz said to his janitor

"I suppose you'll be wanting tomorrow off!" said Schwartz

"Erm, if convenient."

Schwartz grumbled.

"Just get here oily the next day – or you'll be on a permanent Chanukah vacation!" said Schwartz.

"Yes, Mr. Schwartz."

With that, Schwartz left for home. When he arrived, he noticed his door knocker oddly resembled the face of his long-dead partner, Jacob Markowitz. It seemed to stare at Schwartz exactly as Markowitz always did, with his trademark stirred hair and glasses turned up. His eyes did not even blink at all. The face suddenly illuminated. Schwartz turned away in fear. When he turned to look at the face again, it was a regular knocker again. Schwartz realized he was afraid for one of the few times in his life. He inserted his key in the hole in his door. When inside, he paused and looked at the back of his door. He rapidly ran downstairs and up again and bolted his door. He then walked down the hall and up his long, wide stairwell – wide enough for a car to drive up – which is exactly what Schwartz thought he saw. He swore he saw a car – a hearse at that come through the wall and aim directly at him. He ran as it seemed to chase him up the staircase. By the time he reached the top, it disappeared. Schwartz ran in and out of every room in the house as fast as he could. He finally settled in his bedroom and rigged up a bowling ball to fall on the unfortunate soul who would enter and then barricade the door with every piece of furniture in the room. He paused a moment and then slipped into his Scrooge McDuck pajamas. He lit a fire in his old fireplace, paved with Dutch tiles, which all illustrated Bible scenes, including Cain and Abel, the Pharaoh's daughter, the Queen of Sheba, Abraham, Belshazzar, angelic messengers descending through the air in clouds like feather beds, and apostles in butter boats. Suddenly Schwartz saw the face of Markowitz gobble up all the images on the fireplace.

"Mmm, Bible," said Markowitz.

Schwartz ran across the room and sat in a chair. He turned his head to face an old heirloom bell given to him by his father decades ago. He had not used the bell in ages and suddenly it began to ring, barely noticeable at first and then progressively louder. Soon Schwartz heard a thousand bells ringing at once. These bells continued the ring for what felt like an hour to Schwartz. This was followed by a loud clanking noise. Then he heard the basement door slam open, and then the clanking noise again progressive louder, up the stairs and finally toward his door. Schwartz turned white when he saw the full transparent image of Markowitz's body walk through the door in his old dress, and boots and dragged with him on the floor various safes and purses. Markowitz stared at him with icy eyes.

Schwartz ran over to face his ghostly opponent.

"Hold it right there!" yelled Schwartz.

"Too late," said the ghost with a shrug. "It's already on it's way."

"What's already on it's way?" asked Schwartz.

"Look up," said Markowitz.

Schwartz was standing directly under his bowling ball trap. It took him a minute to register before it hit him.

"Good thing I bought a cheap ball," said Schwartz, feeling very dizzy.

"Well I guess now you believe I'm not just your mind playing tricks on you," said Markowitz.

"Yeah, well stay back, or I'll call Bill Murray…and Dan Aykroyd…and Harold Ramis…and Oinie Hudson!" threatened Schwartz.

"Who??" said Markowitz.

"That fourth Ghostbuster everyone seems to forget though my personal favorite. Now what do you want with me anyway?"

"Plenty," answered Markowitz in an icy tone.

"Alright, who are you?" asked Schwartz.

"The question is 'Who _was_ I?'" said Markowitz.

"Okaaay," said Schwartz. "Who _were_ you?"

"In life I was your partner, Jacob Markowitz.

"Erm, can you sit down?" ask Schwartz.

"Yeah," said Markowitz.

"Well, have a seat, old chum," said Schwartz.

There was a moment of silence between the two of them.

"Can I ask you something about the afterlife?" asked Schwartz.

"What is it?" asked Markowitz.

"Do all ghosts roam the Oith?"

"Only the ones that didn't go far enough in life," answered Markowitz.

"Didn't get far enough in life? But you and me formed one of the most successful TV channels in history!"

"I never treated my fellow man good enough," said Markowitz. "And that's what matters in the end."

"Oh!" said Schwartz. "Oy vey!"

"I probably shouldn't spoil so much, but a person's chosen trade is hardly their business. Mankind is what they consider a person's business. Common welfare is considered business. Charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence are all considered true and universal business in the afterlife. Now listen. I don't know much longer you can actually see and communicate with you. I've actually been watching you for seven years in invisible form."

"Huh boy," said Schwartz. "Even when I'm...y'know..."

"What?" asked Markowitz.

"Erm, cleaning the pipes, flogging the dolphin, peeling the banana, unwrapping the pepperoni, wonking the willy…"

"Yeah, yeah," answered Markowitz. "And I've also seen Brad Pitt, Leonardo DeCaprio. You have nothing to flatter yourself about."

Schwartz let out a sneeze, knocking down his chair.

"Bless you. Actually that kinda brings us to why I'm here tonight: you're not blessed. You're damned."

"'Scuse me?" said Schwartz.

"I come tonight to warn you that you still have a chance to escape my fate."

"Wow. Plenty decent of you, old pal," said Schwartz.

"Tonight, you will be visited by eight spirits (one for each night.)"

"Is that the only solution, Jacob?" asked Schwartz.

"'Fraid so," answered Markowitz.

"If that's the case than I think I'd rather not."

"Listen, schmuck, you want to burn for all eternity?" said Markowitz.

"Alright," said Schwartz. "Could you maybe send just one?"

"Four," said Markowitz.

"Three, said Schwartz.

"Done," agreed Markowitz. "Expect the first tomorrow when the bell tolls one."

"Couldn't they all just come at once?" said Schwartz.

"Sorry, Eddo, they're all booked up. And you think you got a tight schedule."

"Alright. Did you mean A.M. or P.M.?" asked Schwartz.

"A," said Markowitz.

"So, 'tomorrow' meaning seven hours from now?"

"Yeah," said Markowitz. "Don't worry. I brought you some afterlife coffee so you won't be so tired. Expect the second the next day of the same hour, and the last the day after when the last stroke of twelve has ceased to vibrate."

They heard a bus pull up.

"Oop, there's my bus," said Markowitz. "Fare's actually pretty good at this hour. They're having a Chanukah special. That's why I chose to come to you at this time. Anyway, good seeing you again, Ed. Good luck."

Schwartz followed Markowitz to the window where he stepped onto the transparent bus parked in the air. Schwartz could see various figures on the bus, each wearing similar chains. He could see people with such disfigurations as being cut in half, blown up, flattened.

True to his word, Markowitz had left a thermos of coffee. Schwartz started to drink from it.

Chapter 2

At promptly 1:00 A.M, the first spirit, as promised, found Schwartz rapidly running up and down the stairs, playing tennis with himself.

"You Ed Schwartz?" asked the spirit, who seemed to be an aged, muscular midget dressed in a white tunic with a flashing neon light belt. He carried with him a green wreath of holly. On its head was a "cap" of shining bright light.

"Yeah. You must be the spirit Markowitz told me about! Would you like a drink?"

"Thanks, but we're sort of on a time budget here," said the spirit.

"Of course. I understand. Speaking of drinks, Markowitz wasn't kidding about that afterlife coffee! I haven't felt a buzz like that in years!"

"Now then, I am the Spirit of Chanukah Past."

"Ed Schwartz. Pleasure to meet you." said Schwartz rapidly shaking his hand. "Now what are you the ghost of long past?"

"No, of your past," said the Spirit.

"My past? Um, okay, why are you here?"

"For your personal welfare," answered the Spirit.

"My personal welfare. Well that's a foist. I must say, no oithly being would ever make such a trip," said Schwartz.

"Come. Rise and walk with me."

The Spirit removed from his tunic a remote control.

"Hey! I know those remotes! They use those in the afterlife?"

The Spirit didn't answer. He pressed the rewind button and the world rapidly reversed its course. Suddenly they came face to face with a dinosaur, which quickly swallowed them.

"Oops," said the Spirit, alive inside the dinosaur's stomach. "We went too far back!"

The Spirit pressed the fast forward button.

Soon they appeared over the Lower East Side of Manhattan. Schwartz recognized it almost instantly.

"Hey! I know this place!" said Schwartz. "I grew up here!"

"That's right. You can let go of my hand now by the way."

Schwartz did so and crashed to the ground, creating a cookie cutter snow angel shape in the road.

"Look, mommy," said one pigtailed little girl of about ten. "A snow angel!"

The ghost flew down over to the cookie cutter shape where Schwartz was.

"F-f-forgot we were in midair for a minute there," said Schwartz with a huff. "You could've reminded me you know."

"Now what would be the fun in that?" asked the Spirit.

As Schwartz walked with the Spirit he saw various familiar faces and pointed them out.

"Why there's little Davey Rosenbaum!' said Schwartz, pointing out a passing face. "And Phil Goldberg! And Billy Bignose!"

"And to our right," said the Spirit, approaching Einstein High School. "Is our young guest of honor."

Schwartz saw his former self sitting alone in a dark room, cold room, in a leather jacket with hair greased up high.

He and the Spirit came through the back of the school and entered the room. He stayed behind reading as his friends left the school. The elder Schwartz sighed.

"Sit down, Schwartz," said the Spirit. "Next to your former self."

Schwartz tried to approach, but his hair stunk of the cheapest grease. Schwartz sneezed again on himself as a child. Young Schwartz felt snot blow on him bet looked around and saw no one. Young Schwartz was befuddled.

"Some family I had me," said Schwartz.

"You'll see," said the Spirit. "Let's flash forward to another Chanukah,"

This time the room was even quieter and gloomier, though this time he awaited a visitor. She soon entered.

"Eddie! Hi!" said a young girl embracing him.

"Fannie!" said Schwartz. "Been quite a while."

"Well, here I am to take you home," said Fannie. "You lucky Jew, you!"

"Yeah," sighed Schwartz. "Home."

"Dad's gotten a lot nicer," said Fannie. "He's actually looking forward to your coming home."

"That's nice," said Schwartz.

Schwartz gathered his things and bid goodbye to his teacher.

"Now good day," said Mr. Silverman.

"But…" said Schwartz.

"I said 'good day!" said Mr. Silverman.

"Putz," Schwartz whispered to his sister as they walked out the door of Einstein High.

Schwartz and the Spirit left the room with them. When they stepped outside, Schwartz realized they were in still a different time. The Spirit walked Schwartz over to the Silver and Goldberg studios.

"Are you familiar with this place?" asked the Spirit.

"Yeah," said Schwartz. "I interned here."

They stepped inside and saw various people eating, drinking, and mingling. Schwartz noticed a heavy-set balding man with grey hair and brown eyes. "Molting Matzoballs!" said Schwartz. "It's good old Goldboig! What a guy!"

"Hey, Eddie, Richie, come in!" he called.

Young Schwartz, nineteen, entered with an African American with an afro his own age, his old friend Richie Jones.

"What's up, boss?" asked Richie.

"Why it's party time, cats!" said Mr. Goldberg. "The Chanukah party!"

"Right," said Schwartz with a light laugh. "We both forgot about that."

Both grabbed some latkes. Mr. Goldberg soon danced in the center of the room with his wife as young Schwartz and Richie both watched and smiled at the sight of their boss having such fun. Goldberg was something of a father figure to both youths, to Schwartz especially, who's own father was always very distant. After the dance, they all conversed.

"Small matter to fill these schmucks with gratitude," said the Spirit, a slight imitation of Schwartz's own attitude.

"I…didn't think it was so small when he said it," said Schwartz.

"But this whole party cost little under a thousand dollars."

"That wasn't even what I meant. It's just…" said Schwartz, his eyes swelling up slightly. "…even so, he always made Richie and I feel like a million dollars. He praised us every day – especially around Chanukah time. I…I should do the same for my employees."

The Spirit nodded. Schwartz's sunk his head and winced. By the time he opened his eyes, the room emptied. He saw yet another version of himself, of about thirty this time. He was with a blonde woman about a year younger. Both stood quietly and tense. They sat in a deli booth. Schwartz was reading the paper.

"Eh, what's the point, Eddie?" said the woman. "I can see someone…some_thing_ …has replaced me. And if it seriously causes you as much pleasure as I have, then I guess it's just as well."

"Who?! What do you think has replaced you?" asked the younger Schwartz.

"A golden idol," said the woman.

"What are you talking about?" asked the younger Schwartz.

"You're just so damn caught up with making money that there's just no place for me in your life."

"That's just business!" said Schwartz. "That's way of the tough world and I know from experience that nothing is tougher in life than poverty."

"But you just fear the 'tough world' so much. This fight against former poverty has just completely become you."

"So what's your point? I've just become all the wiser. We're still the same. I don't think any less of you."

"You signed a _contract_ with me when you were poor and happy. A different man."

"A boy," said Schwartz.

The woman sighed.

"There you go. You just admitted yourself. Our whole relationship is immature. I _release _you, you damned golden bird."

"'Realease.'" Repeated Schwartz. "I never asked to be released."

"Well, you're released! It's over! Done! Finito!"

The woman left the booth.

"Oh come on!" Schwartz called after her. "Can't you at least wait for the check? We'll split it! See how generous I'm being?"

The elder Schwartz, seeing this, hung his head in shame. The Spirit blew his nose and wiped his eyes.

"Spirit, did you really have to torture me like that?"

"We're almost done," said the Spirit. "I have only one more memory to show you."

"Oh please," said Schwartz. "No more."

In an instant, Schwartz and the spirit entered another room, not especially grand, yet very comfortable. Schwartz saw the woman who had just left him sitting in a room with a large group of children. She was laughing with her daughter. A knock on the door was soon heard. In walked a man with a bag full of presents. The kids mauled him. Schwartz had never in his life seen such happiness.

"Abe, come quick!" said Schwartz' ex-girlfriend to her husband. "Joe just swallowed the doll's fake turkey!"

The father rushed into the children's playroom.

"_Not_!" said the woman.

Everyone in the room laughed.

The man soon sat down. His daughter cuddled up beside him lovingly. Schwartz was ever mystified and envious. No human being of any age or gender had ever shown him such emotion.

"Oh by the way, Sally, I saw an old friend of yours this afternoon."

"Who?" asked Sally.

"Three guesses," said the man.

"Tom?" asked Sally.

"Nope."

"Dick?"

"Nope."

"Senator Clinton?"

"Ehhh," said Abe, trying to imitate the _Jeopardy_ wrong noise. "Wrong! It was Mr. Schwartz. I just passed by his studio today. His partner's dying of A.I.D.S. Rumor is he got it from Schwartz himself."

"_Buuuuullshiiiit_!" Schwartz shouted at the top of his lungs. The Spirit chuckled.

"Schwartz…Schwartz…doesn't ring a bell."

"Oh come on!" said Schwartz. "You remember me! I popped your cherry for God's sake!"

"Actually," said the Spirit. "That's just what she told you."

In a flash, they were in Sally's bedroom. Schwartz saw her the same age as when they first dated, having sex with a well-built blonde man with brown eyes. Schwartz heard her scream and covered his ears.

"If it makes you feel any better," said the Spirit. "She's faking."

Suddenly, the phone rang. Sally caught her breath.

"H-h-hello?"

"Hey there, pretty woman," said the voice on the phone. It was actually young Schwartz's own.

"Oh, hey, Eddie, what's up?"

"What are you up to tonight?"

The elder Schwartz sneezed again at this point.

" I'm sorry, Eddie. I have a bit of a cold," said Sally.

"Oh, alright. Get well soon." Schwartz had a tendency to end every conversation with a bad joke. Sally told him goodbye and hung up the phone.

"Who was that?" asked the man she was having sex with.

"Oh that was just the guy I told you I was seeing. Now where were we?"

"Wait a minute," said Schwartz. "She dates me, loses her virginity to an affair, and then fucks me?"

The Spirit looked at him and then said "Yeah."

"That lying, cheating fucking bitch!" said the elder Schwartz. "That's it! You take me back right now! Do you hear me? Right now!"

The Spirit just stared at him. Schwartz completely lost his mind and started attacking the Spirit, forgetting that he could ignore solid objects. It took Schwartz a moment to realize he was essentially fighting air. The Spirit soon disappeared entirely and reappeared elsewhere in the room as a boxing referee.

"And Schwartz gives 'im a left! An' a right! An' a rabbit punch! An' a…"

Schwartz saw him, ran for him, and dove.

"Why you!" he said.

In mid-dive, Schwartz was back in his own bedroom. He just missed his bed and landed face-first on the floor.

"Thank you," said Schwartz.

Chapter 3

Schwartz was about to get into bed when a delivery truck crashed through the wall.

"Ed Schwartz?" the delivery man asked.

"Fuck, yeah," said Schwartz.

The delivery man handed Schwartz a pad and told him to sign. After he did, the delivery man removed a large package (at least as large as Schwartz himself) and left. Schwartz read the tag. It read "To Eddie, Love Jake." Schwartz looked in the box. It was seemingly empty. Then he sneezed. A large buffet table with food suddenly popped out and unfolded like a pop-up book. There were frankfurters, latkes, knishes, brisket, and matzohball soup to name a few of the delicacies on the tables. After the entire table emerged and unfolded into eight different tables, a man popped out of the package carrying a torch. He wore a large, loose-fitting blue and gold robe, a yamaca, and was barefoot.

"Bless you." he said. "I'm the Spirit of Chanukah Present – get it – Chanukah present?"

"Cute," murmured Schwartz.

"Have we met before?" asked the Spirit.

"I don't think so," said Schwartz.

"Maybe it was one of my brothers then."

"Yeah I just met the Spirit of Chanukah Past," said Schwartz.

"Oh he's not one of my brothers," said the Spirit.

"How many brothers do have?" asked Schwartz.

The Spirit counted on his fingers, then removed his wallet from his robe.

The pictures unfolded and spread all across the room. The spirit counted them rapidly.

"About 1,800," the Spirit said.

"Oy gavolt!" said Schwartz.

"Let's get down to business, shall we?" said the Spirit.

"I like that," said Schwartz.

"Take my hand," said the Spirit. Schwartz did as he was told.

Schwartz did so, and within a second they were in an Al Queda training camp, being taught the best disguises for bombs. Schwartz sneezed. The terrorists in training noticed them.

"Jews!" shouted Bin Laden. "Kill them!"

Schwartz and the Spirit started running.

The Al Queda gang chased and fired at Schwartz and the Spirit.

"Erm, wrong present," said the Spirit embarrassed.

"I thought you said no one could hear or see us!" shouted Schwartz.

"Oh, yeah, yeah, forgot about that too." said the Spirit. "Now take my hand."

Schwartz grabbed the Spirit's hand.

"They're homosexuals too it looks like!" said one of the Al Queda gang.

"Markowitz and I were just friends!" Schwartz shouted back as he disappeared.

At the next moment, he and spirit were high above the ground.

"You can let go of my hand now."

Schwartz looked down.

"Oh no, nice try, not if this is going to be a total recap of last chapter."

"You won't fall. I promise."

Schwartz removed his hand in doubt, still apparently in the air.

"Hey, whaddaya know! I'm not falling!"

"Light the first candle!" the mayor called from down below. It took Schwartz a second to realize that he was standing atop a giant menorah. A giant flame rose from where he was standing.

"Putz!" he said to the Spirit, who was still suspended in the air, while Schwartz was engulfed in flames. The Spirit grabbed him, jumped, and blew on him when they landed. Schwartz was then back to normal. The Spirit led him an apartment building and they then entered a studio apartment. Schwartz recognized Bill Katz, his janitor, in the apartment. He Mrs. Katz cooking brisket in the kitchen. His three twin children – Harry, Barry, and Larry, ran into the kitchen, in hope to get an early taste.

"Can we have…" said Harry

"…a taste…" continued Barry

"…Di Muter…" finished Larry.

"Not yet, you hazas," said Kathy Katz. "Wait for the rest of the family."

The apartment buzzer soon rang.

"Who is it?" asked Kathy.

"It's Millie."

Kathy buzzed her in.

"Ooh!" said Harry.

"Here comes…" said Barry.

"…Millie!" said Larry.

Millie entered at that moment.

"Where in God's name were you?" asked Kathy.

"Well, there was kinda this party and…"

The buzzer rang again.

"We'll talk about this later," said Kathy. She went to the door and answered the buzzer.

"Who is it?" she asked.

"Bill."

Kathy buzzed her husband in. He soon entered with his 12-year-old 7'1 son, Tom, who suffered from a rare growth disorder yet could not gain enough weight to support his height. His friends in school ironically nicknamed him "Tiny."

"Shalom, my wonderful family!" said Bill upon walking in.

"Shalom!" they all shouted back.

"Shalooom," Schwartz said sarcastically.

Kathy soon put the brisket on the table and all the excited Katzes sat down to monge. While not very large, the brisket looked very tasty, sufficient enough for each of the Katz family. After all finished the brisket, Mrs. Katz went into the kitchen and returned with a plate of chocolate gelt coins. The family soon toasted to a Happy Chanukah.

"Is the giant gonna be okay?" asked Schwartz.

"I see an empty chair," said the Spirit. "In the poor chimney corner, and an ownerless crutch. If these shadows remain unchanged, Tim will pass on."

"Oy vey!" said Schwartz.

"Mr. Schwartz!" said Bill. Schwartz perked up from hanging his head in grief. "To Mr. Schwartz, the founder of the feast."

"'Founder of the feast,'" Mrs. Katz repeated sarcastically. "Yeah right. If this Mr. Schwartz was here, I'd give him more than a piece of my mind to 'feast upon' – and he had better have a damn good appetite."

"Aw c'mon," said Bill. "It's Chanukah. Cut the guy some slack."

"It should be Chanukah on which one drinks to such an loathsome, penny-pinching, miserable old man like Mr. Schwartz. You know it's the truth. Nobody knows it better than you."

"Chanukah," reminded Bill.

"Alright, I'll drink to him for your sake, and the day's, but not for his own. Happy Chanukah. Be a Happy Chanukah indeed when that man's happy."

The Katzes clinked. Mentioning Schwartz's name, the family felt, brought the whole celebration down, but only for five minutes, and the family soon sang various Chanukah blessings.

At this point, Schwartz and the Spirit left the room. They walked through the town, observing various other Chanukah celebrations. Finally they entered another apartment building and walked into an open apartment. Schwartz recognized his nephew sitting with his wife and a multitude of guests.

"So my uncle said that Chanukah is a Humbug," said Schwartz's nephew. Everyone at the table cracked up.

"Quite a character, my Uncle Eddie. He is so cheap that 1-800-COL-LECT is first on his speed dial!"

The table laughed again.

"My uncle Eddie is so cheap that when he gets an idea, he shuts the light bulb over his head off!"

The table laughed again.

"My uncle Eddie is so cheap that Valentine's Day was declared a holiday because he finally spent his first dollar on February 14th to buy candy!"

The table laughed again. The Spirit cracked up.

"Remind me to give this guy his own show," said Schwartz.

The Spirit laughed.

"Why? He's insulting the Jewish Hell outa you!"

"He gets laughs like that he can insult me every week!"

The guests soon had some coffee and then the children played with a dreydel while the mother played a harp. Still other guests played Twenty Questions. Schwartz joined in (of course unbeknownst to the guests.) For one of the few times in his life, Schwartz was actually having a good time and was actually reluctant to leave his nephew's party when the Spirit told him to do so.

"Aw, c'mon, Spirit. Five more minutes, pwetty pwease, with sugar on top," said Schwartz.

"Sorry, Eddo, can't be done."

"At least let me find out the answer to this question. It's killing me."

The answer turned out to be Schwartz himself, after having been categorized as disagreeable, savage, growled, and grunted. Wrong answers included a cow, a bull, a tiger, a dog, a pig, a bear, though the correct answer, "Uncle Eddie," was revealed after someone guessed "an ass."

"You know, unwittingly he's given tonight so much happiness, so it would be fair to toast to his health," said his nephew. The other guests, none of whom had ever met Schwartz (for which they considered themselves fortunate), clinked.

"A Happy Chanukah to the old fart," said his nephew. "He couldn't take it away from me, but he can have it.

Schwartz told the Spirit he wished he could've thanked all those people, but he reluctantly left. After leaving that party, Schwartz and the Spirit continued to walk across town. They passed prisons and hospitals and saw everyone in the worst of circumstances, yet everyone seemed to be enjoying the holiday.

Schwartz noticed that Spirit looked older than when he first saw him. His hair was greying.

"Do spirits have a short life span?" asked Schwartz.

"We grow older every second on earth. That's why time is of the essence. I can only survive till midnight and then I'm automatically whooshed back to the spirit world."

Schwartz looked down and noticed something strange.

"Forgive me, Spirit," said Schwartz. "But I see something weird and not belonging to you. Is that a foot or a claw?" he said pointing downward.

The Spirit opened his robe and revealed two children, a boy and a girl. They looked miserable. The most misery Schwartz had seen all day, perhaps in his life. Though human, the children were the most gruesome creatures Schwartz had ever seen.

"Your kids?" Schwartz asked.

"No," said the Spirit. "They are yours."

"Oh come on," said Schwartz. "I'm not that ugly and I was never with anyone that ugly."

"They belong to humanity in general," explained the Spirit. "These children are the Spirits of Ignorance and Want. And I leave you with this, Schwartz. Beware of both these children."

Schwartz heard a tower bell in town toll, and with that, the Spirit of Chanukah present vanished and soon replaced by none other than…

Chapter 4

…the Spirit of Chanukah Future, looking like a hooded phantom.

"You the Spirit of Chanukah Future?" asked Schwartz.

The Spirit nodded.

"You're…going to show me things that have not happened, but will happen in time before us." Schwartz paused. "Is that right, Spirit?"

The Spirit again simply nodded.

"Could you maybe show me the lottery numbers?" asked Schwartz.

The Spirit took a mallet out from his robe and whacked Schwartz over the head.

"Okay," said Schwartz. "I deserved that."

The Spirit held out his hand and Schwartz accepted it. This time Schwartz found himself in a rocket ship, which was being shot at with laser beams. Schwartz instinctively grabbed the controls, making various twists and turns in the sky, unintentionally smoke writing "Eat at Joe's," while spirit just sat back in his own seat and played with a yo-yo. He zoomed past a large, twisted glass vessel in which various people as well as the strangest alien creatures he had ever seen were flying, on top of which sat a man in an orange vest in a control booth who Schwartz noticed shrugging and remarking "It's a living." There were people with green skin, one eye, robots, and what appeared to be literal buttheads (with rear ends where normal people had their heads, though at least one of which was still smoking a cigar through the hole in his rear.) Schwartz was too preoccupied with taking in his most unusual surroundings to pay any more attention to flying the rocket. He pushed a button that said "pause" on it and the ship as well as everything within ten meters froze in midair.

"Say," Schwartz said. "I have an excellent idea for a new sci-fi series!"

The Spirit pushed the pause button, and the ship crashed into a large electronic billboard before President Paris Hilton was about to give her address.

Schwartz grabbed the Spirit's hand and popped backstage at the Emmy after-party.

"No, all I know's he gone," said a fat man with a large chin.

"When did he die?" asked another man.

"Last night I think," replied the fat man.

"What was wrong with him?" asked another man.

"God only knows," said the fat man.

"Where'd all his money go?" asked a red-faced man with a noticeable wart on his nose.

"I don't know. Left it to his studio maybe. I just know he didn't leave a fuckin' penny to me," said the fat man sarcastically.

The others laughed.

"Must be a pretty cheap funeral," said the fat man. "I honestly don't know if anyone's even attending. Maybe we should go."

"I'll go if lunch is provided," said the man with the wart. "I never go anywhere if lunch isn't provided."

The others laughed again.

"Anyway I'll go if anyone else goes. He was always relatively civil toward me and vice versa," said the fat man.

The fat man left while the others mingled to other groups of conversation.

Schwartz, who had recognized the men, looked to the Spirit for an explanation, though the Spirit still said nothing. He just took him outside and pointed him to another small group of people, each of which he also recognized as fellow network executives.

"Hello. How are you?" asked one man, shaking another's hand.

"Good," he said. "How are you?"

"Good. So…he's gone."

"Yeah. And good riddance."

"Cold," commented the other one.

"Oh come on, he got what he deserved."

"No I was talking about the weather actually."

"Oh, yeah."

Schwartz wondered what the purpose of the Spirit showing him these conversations was, though he understood by now that he was being taught a moral lesson. He just was not yet sure how he could apply these conversations to his own morality. He expected to soon see his future self, who might shed some light on this ambiguity. Schwartz and the Spirit left to another part of town that Schwartz had known only through its reputation for crime, filth, and misery. The homes and all the buildings were in abominable condition. They saw half-naked, noisy drunks. One could smell the odor of the town's cesspools from miles away.

Schwartz and the spirit came to a pawn shop named Joe's which advertised itself to sell everything from bottles to bones. Inside, junk was piled on the floor that nearly went up halfway to the ceiling. It was a place of many underground business dealings. Schwartz and the spirit saw an elderly man of about seventy sitting by the radiator smoking a cigarette. Soon another man and two women also entered with bags. On a stool beside ham sat a laptop computer.

"Where should we do this, Joe?" asked the undertaker.

"Eh, just dump them on the floor," said the old man.

The man dumped his bag of clothes on the floor. The contents revealed included a case of pencils and some shirt buttons. Inspected each item and on his laptop wrote down a list of prices. One of the women opened her bag of towels, sheets, shirts, pants, and a few boots, one of which housed a rat. The other woman opened her bag and pulled out some blankets.

Schwartz recognized what was on the floor.

"Say, Spirit," he said. "Are they speaking of who I think they're speaking of."

"The Spirit gave a slow, dramatic nod."

"Uh…oh…" said Schwartz

"Don't get anything on those blankets," said Joe.

"I just hope he didn't die of anything contagious," said the woman.

"Did I? How did I meet my end?" asked Schwartz. "Heart disease? Malignant neoplasm? A crook demanding either my money or my life?"

"Nah, rocket crashed into a billboard," said Joe to the lady who commented on Schwartz's death.

Schwartz was dumb-founded. Of all the ways to go – by his own hand – all because the Spirit had taken him completely out of his element. In his mind he cussed the Spirit, who pulled a sign from his robe reading "I heard that."

"Was this all that Markowitz's plan? I can't wait to see him in Hell."

The old man looked at a shirt.

"You won't find a hole in that one," said the woman. "Best damn shirt he ever had. They'd 'a' wasted it if it wasn't for me."

"What do you mean 'wasting?'" asked the other woman.

"I mean buried him in it. They actually did, but I stole it off of the corpse."

All four people laughed. Schwartz continued to hear them laughing and saw their heads as the room spun around. Schwartz fell dizzy and banged his head on the wall. He then noticed a bed.

"Hey, I get it," said Schwartz. This is the part where I go back to bed and wake up a good guy, right?"

The Spirit said nothing.

Schwartz lifted the covers and looked at the Spirit, who remained silent and still. Schwartz covered himself and again looked at the Spirit. The Spirit barely moved at all. Schwartz then turned over and screamed. He was in bed with his own corpse. Schwartz started hysterically crying.

The Spirit removed another sign this time reading. "Pull yourself together! Be a man! Never seen your own corpse before?"

"It's worse than I thought!" cried Schwartz. "My parents told me I was circumsized – but I wasn't! I coulda had all the confidence in the woild!"

The Spirit popped him and out of the houses and apartments of nearly everyone he had ever known throughout his life, each of whom said, all virtually in the same enthusiastic tone, "He's dead!" In the house where seven midgets lived together, who he had casted in _The Wizard of Oz III: The Wicked Witches of the North and South_, they sang, "La, la, the putz is dead! The mean old putz of who cares what! La, la, the mean old putz is dead!" Finally he was transported to the house of Bill Katz, where he saw the family (with the exception of Bill and Tom sitting quietly and saying the Hebrew Mourners' Kaddish.

"Well," commented Schwartz. "Among the last mourners I ever expected."

"Where's dad?" asked Larry. "He should be home by now."

"Chanukah traffic?" said Barry. "I mean without Tom for the HOV lane."

Kathy wept.

"_Ohhh shit_!" said Schwartz. "_Tom_!?"

The doorbell rang and Kathy buzzed in her husband in relatively good spirits. The family went into the kitchen and had matzo ball soup in relative silence, leaving an empty chair at the table.

"Oh, I bumped into Mr. Schwartz's nephew," said Bill.

"Yeah? How's he doing?" asked Kathy.

"Not much more down usual," said Bill. "Still a damn nice guy. Wished me condolences and I wished him the same. He gave me his card. Said to call him if we ever needed him for anything."

Schwartz sighed.

"Are we about ready?" asked Schwartz.

Schwartz and the Spirit left the building and walked down the street. Schwartz paused for a moment where his studio had once stood. The building was now completely abandoned. Outside stepped a dark-haired woman in a Firstgear Contour Mesh jacket assaulting a preist. Schwartz recognized the woman as Anita, his former secretary, whom Schwartz had fired for bring him coffee, which he was allergic to, rather than his order of tea.

"You sick fuck!" Anita shouted. "You paid for me, not for my son! Now take your fuckin' money back and don't ever come anywhere near here again!"

A young boy of six stepped outside, who bore a strong resemblance to Shwartz himself at that age. The elder Schwartz watching recoiled in panic.

"Mommy," said the boy.

"What is it Ben Zocher?"

"Where's daddy?" asked the boy.

"…someplace warm, Ben Zocher," replied the mother.

"Will we ever see him again?" the boy asked.

"Maybe one day in the far future," said the mother.

"Oy! I…he…huh…"

The Spirit continued walking and Schwartz followed him to a nearby graveyard. He pointed to a pair of gravediggers. One said,

"Fine way to spend a Chanukah!"

"Oh, kvetch, kvetch. Let's just take a break. This son of a bitch isn't going anywhere."

The gravediggers left the site. The Spirit continued pointing.

"Erm, just one little question if I may ask…these visions that you show me, Spirit, are they the future written in stone, or just a possible future…like "The Dark Knight Returns" to the Batman/DC universe?"

The Spirit smacked his head and continued pointing at the grave. Schwartz walked over to it, seeing the casket just barely covered while there was still a great deal to fill up, and read his own name on the tombstone. Schwartz got down on his knees, wept, and pleaded with the Spirit.

"Oh come on! Please! I'm not who I was yesterday! I see how wrong I've been all these years! Please tell me it's not too late! I promises I'll always honor Chanukah in my heart in live with the Spirits of its Past, Present, and you! I've learned my lesson! Just please, please, please change this horrible future! Please! Please!"

The Spirit kicked Schwartz into his own grave. Schwartz felt a pain in his back from the fall. Almost as soon as the Spirit kicked him into the grave, the gravediggers returned from their break and started filling up the hole.

"Hey, guys, someone's in here!" shouted Schwartz. "I'm here!"

Schwartz tried to get up, however could not because of the pain in his back. Within two hours, the entire grave was filled, Schwartz's body and Spirit buried inside it.

Schwartz soon woke up sweating. He looked around. He appeared to be in what seemed to be a boiling heated cave. A horned red creature soon greeted him.

"You're…I'm…" said Schwartz terrified.

"That's right, Mr. Schwartz. People are waiting to see you here," said the horned creature. "Now come with me."

Schwartz followed and passed numerous familiar faces including Benedict Arnold, Al Capone, Robert Ford, Edward ("Blackbeard") Teach, Brutus, Saddam Hussein, and Adolf Hitler, who greeted him with a malicious "Welcome, Mr. Schwartz!"

He was taken to a cavern with bars, which were opened and soon locked. In the room was a bed with no mattress and a telephone. Schwartz then heard the phone ringing. He answered it.

"Hello?" said Schwartz.

"Well, Mr. Schwartz," said a vaguely familiar voice.

"Who is this?" asked Schwartz.

:"It's Tom Katz from upstairs," he answered.

"Tom!" said Schwartz surprised.

"That's right," said Tom. "One of the many you killed."

"What are you talking about?!" asked Schwartz.

"Thanks to what you paid my father I was never able to gain the weight to support my height – and I was too young to legally get a job on my own."

"I…I…Tom, I am so sorry. I really didn't want this to happen."

"Don't give me that sorry bullshit, motherfucker. You will be sorry. My mother, my brothers, my father, and me all want you to suffer horribly – and since we angels always get what we want…"

Schwartz heard the other end of the phone hang up.

The door to Schwartz's cell opened. In walked another familiar face – himself.

"What the--?!" said Schwartz.

"That's right, buddy, I'm the future you!"

"But I—"

"You're the fuckin' me from the past who pissed off the Spirits and winded up here."

"What?! But I—"

"We coulda gone to Heaven with a cloud next to Anna Nicole Smith, who lost fifty pounds, but nooooo!"

"Don't say I didn't warn you, old pal," Schwartz heard Markowitz calling from the a cell to the left.

"Markowitz!"

Another man walked into Schwartz's cell with a large knife.

"Hello, Schwartz," said the man in a German accent.

"Do I know you?" asked Schwartz.

"You should remember Mr. Von Nostrand," answered the other Schwartz. "This guy was at you bris."

"And I'm not done with you, Schwartz."

"Oh no!" cried Schwartz.

The other Schwartz dropped his pants, revealing that he had no penis.

"Noooo!" yelled Schwartz cowering in the corner.

The other Schwartz grabbed him and took him over to the bed.

"Nooooo!" Schwartz again shouted struggling.

Chapter 5

Schwartz opened his eyes and saw that he was back in his own room. He jumped for joy. Schwartz quickly shaved, brushed his teeth, showered, and dressed. He then ran outside his home and asked a twelve-year-old Orthodox Jewish passerby what day it was.

"December 7th," he replied. "The first night of Chanukah."

"Wow!" thought Schwartz to himself. "The Spirits have done it all in one night! But then, they're Spirits!"

"Sir?" said the boy.

"Son, you know Moe's deli around the corner there?"

"Yes, sir," said the boy.

"Buy a good Chanukah meal, eight presents for yourself in one night, and bring it back to me.

Outside, Schwartz ran into the charity collectors who had previously asked him for a donation.

"Shalom!" shouted Schwartz. "You're the guys from page 4, right? How'd you guys collect yesterday?"

"Eh, not too good. Nobody else was too much more generous than you," replied one of the charity collectors.

"Well that luck's about to change!" said Schwartz. "How's…" he said whispering in the charity collector's ear.

"Holy Moses!" said the charity collector. "Are you serious?!"

"Never more in my life!" said Schwartz.

"How can we ever repay you," asked the charity collector.

"Just by having a happy Chanukah," said Schwartz.

"Happy Chanukah to you, Mr. Schwartz."

Schwartz went into a phone booth, where he noticed a picture of Anita, which read "Call 555-3825 for a good time." Schwartz called the number.

"Erotic fantasies come true," a voice answered.

"Hello, Anita? It's Eddie."

"Who??" asked Anita.

"Your old boss, Eddie Schwartz!"

"You! What the fuck do you want?!"

"Look, I was an awful putz to you and I just want to say I'm sorry."

"What are you in fuckin' AA or something?" asked Anita.

"Yeah," said Schwartz.

"Yeah, well…"

"Look, how would you feel about your old job back, double what I paid you before?" asked Schwartz.

"Pay me double. What am I a blonde? I could easier believe that this story could be the first ever Pulitzer Prize-winning fanfic."

:"Please, Anita," said Schwartz.

The phone was silent for a moment. Anita had never heard him say that word. Much as she despised her old boss, she could use the money he was offering, and it would be nice if her son got to know his father, even if he could be a real jerk.

"Come by later around three-ish," she said. "We'll talk then."

"Thank you, Anita. Happy Chanukah."

Schwartz then walked over to his nephew's house, just pacing the ground several times before actually ringing the bell. A young girl opened the door.

"Hello. You Moe's daughter?" asked Schwartz.

"Yes," she said.

"He around?" asked Schwartz.

"He's upstairs. I'll take you up," said the girl.

"Hello, Moe," said Schwartz upstairs.

"Uncle Eddie!" said Moe. "I'd expect Jesus Christ himself to show up before you."

"Well if he's going to come back I don't see where else he'd possibly go besides here to such fine cooking and festivities," said Schwartz.

Schwartz's nephew could only reply "Eh?" not used to hearing his uncle speak so nicely. Before this, the nicest thing he ever remembered Schwartz saying was sarcastically calling him Einstein.

"May I please join you for dinner?" asked Schwartz.

"I…alright," said Moe.

At the party, Schwartz had the time of his life.

The next day, Schwartz got up early and left for his office, hoping to beat Katz to the office. Katz entered Schwartz's office 9:20 A.M. with his cleaning cart.

"Hello, Katz," snarled Schwartz.

"Oh, hello, Mr. Schwartz. Shalom."

"Little late, aren't we?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry, Mr. Schwartz. Late, fun night last night."

"I see, well, Katz, I am not going to stand for this anymore," said Schwartz. "Soo…"

Katz looked nervous as Schwartz "played the drums" with his hands on his desk.

"I'm going to double your salary," Schwartz said.

Katz had just set down a "Caution: Wet Floor" yellow sign before he stepped back and slipped.

"Are you alright, Bill?" asked Schwartz.

"Um, yeah, I'm fine. Are you okay?" asked Katz.

"Never better in my life," said Schwartz, putting his arm around Katz.

"Gee," said Katz. "I don't know what to say!"

"Happy Chanukah, Bill," said Schwartz, extending his hand.

"Happy Chanukah, Mr. Schwartz," said Katz, removing his rubber glove before shaking Schwartz's hand.

"May this be the start of the happiest eight days of the year and many more to come," Schwartz said. Katz nodded.

"Oh by the way," said Katz, reaching into his shirt pocket and removing a cookie. "Would you like a cookie? My wife made them."

"Don't mind if I do," said Schwartz, taking the cookie. Schwartz sneezed, slipped backward, and banged into the wall.

"God bless you," said Katz.

"And God bless us everyone," said Schwartz.


End file.
